


What the Wolf Brought

by 19thsentry



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Ambiguity leads to good fan theories they say, Gen, Lets people think they say, No i'm just confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:11:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7221859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/19thsentry/pseuds/19thsentry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Who really was he? Was he Oz? Was he the wolf? Was he the animal that strained against its chains three nights a month?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the Wolf Brought

Things used to be pretty clear: he was Daniel “Oz” Osbourne. He was comfortable with himself. The world would move and “he” would move with it, going through the movements of everyday life, but his soul, his core being, was always still. He was separate and yet involved, there but still inside himself. Time marched forward, chords were played, sets began and ended, school started and then finished, but the core of “Oz” stood still. 

That was Before. Now, the After, the wolf reigned.

Everything was about movement and change. The wolf felt and smelled and heard and tasted the differences in every hour of every phase of the moon. The earth had rhythm and sounds, and now his very being moved with it, within it—he was part of it. He didn’t just participate in life on earth, he was it. He didn’t just walk on the earth’s surface, he was tethered to it. He was part of its ever changing landscape, and so was she.

The Slayer moved like nature. She was eternal, a constant, just like the demons she fought. She was part of a continual give and take, the endless pushing and pulling that permeated every part of the Earth they were a part of. 

The vampire punched, she dodged; she kicked, the demon flew; both reacted as they moved. 

Oz had once been terrified of the Slayer—he had become one of the creatures she fought. In his life there were very few times he had been purely terrified, and only once in his memory had he ever been afraid for his life. He had been scared of her. Perhaps that was why, as he stood on the sidelines, he thought of the vampires. One day, they had been innocent victims, turned into something unfathomable, something that now swam in their veins, spun in their undead hearts, filling the space the soul had once lived.

The wolf was always with him inside, hiding behind what others saw as “Oz”. He had to wonder if it was the same for vampires, or if that’s how some saw themselves. From this angle, it didn’t appear to be. In front of him was a bloodthirsty demon, futilely fighting against the one chosen to bring down its kind, but he still couldn’t get rid of the image of him doing the same under the light of the full moon. He couldn’t say that his wolf would be any less ferocious or any less feral. Any less bloodthirsty.

It bothered him. Who really was he? Was he Oz? Was he the wolf? Was he the animal that strained against its chains three nights a month?

Who were vampires, really?

He wondered if he would ever get the chance to speak to one (would vampires still want to suck his blood? They didn’t seem to drink from demons). Willow had gotten a chance once, and from what she told him when they made up later, vampires were capable of emotion, of having feelings. Did that make them like him? 

And if that was the case, what was the function of a soul? Was it actually just a leash, the same as his chains? If it wasn’t about emotions, what made it so important?

She was spinning now, kicking another vampire that had joined the fight. She was her own force of nature—poetry in motion. He often thought about writing music to it, but something about it seemed wrong, even if it was just from an artist’s perspective. Watching her fight made his hands itch—the wolf, he was sure, wanting to get out. Wanting to join. 

He could ignore it most of the time when it was daylight. The only other time he had patrolled with her was during the Kathy Incident, and only by Willow’s request. Even if nothing had happened, he was still glad he had gone. Then, he had been taking care of a friend.

This was different. This wasn’t just Oz, worried about his friend, the wolf quietly waiting inside him, and right now, he wasn’t watching after Buffy. He was watching the Slayer stake both vampires, quickly taking on a third (one that had by-passed him completely). This wasn’t a midnight stroll with a side of business—not at the moment. 

The wolf came out at night, sang in his veins, howled as she did, fought as she did. The wolf watched her, the one girl in all the world, as she slayed the demons in the dark. 

The wind picked up then, tangling with her hair and bringing the scent of honey and vanilla, mixed with the sweet smell of the Earth and something darker, heavier, scattering the dust of demons freshly past. It smelled of something mystic, following in her wake as she walked back towards him, the girl returning.

“I think I chipped one of my nails. Stupid vampire…” Buffy pouted, inspecting her ring finger.

A hint of a smile played on his lips as he turned with her to head back to campus. Answers could wait. 

They had time.


End file.
